


Little Harrymaid

by mitsukai613



Series: Harry Dresden in fairy tales [7]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: I think you all get the idea by now, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Dresden in the Little Mermaid. I did use more of the Disney version for this one too, admittedly, because it was just a lot happier than the other, and therefore fit better in this part of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Harrymaid

                I didn’t see Marcone again before the next dream, and admittedly that was sort of weird. Usually it was some sort of encounter with him that brought them about. Now, apparently, I’d just have them whenever I damn well felt like it, I guess. What was stranger, though, was that I hadn’t seen Marcone for two weeks. Ever since I’d begun to talk to him again he showed up all the damn time; I could hardly step outside without him appearing for one tenuous reason or another. I was honestly starting to have these irrational thoughts that I’d done something to him, offended him somehow, like maybe he’d found out about these dreams I was having and knew what he did in them. I mean, I knew that was silly, obviously, because I suspected that he was having the dreams too, but still.

                Anyway, when I woke up in this dream I was already awake, strange as that sounds. I was awake and I was submerged in water and I felt really, really funny. I opened my eyes for a moment, expecting the water to make them sting and burn, but instead I felt just like I would if I opened my eyes any other time. The environment around me, a rather pretty, colorful coral reef, was a little hazy from the constantly flowing water, but otherwise, yeah, everything was normal. I looked around, saw my arms, and moved them, finding that they moved as if I were on land too. And then I tried to move my legs. I think you can probably imagine what I found.

                I had a tail instead of legs. I had a giant ass motherfucking blazing red tail, the ends of it wispy and light, almost see through. The damn thing even had this weird, swirly pattern on it. I flicked it and felt myself move a little and Hell’s Bells I didn’t want to.

                “Harry? Harry! Are you okay?” A small, quicksilver fish with wide, equally colored eyes suddenly flitted in front of my face. I jolted a little, and nodded. Okay. So. Yeah. I was the little mermaid. Whatever. That was fine. Stars and Stones, I think I’ve gotten too used to the dresses; this change in routine is freaking me out a little. Can I have a skirt? Um. Actually, never mind. Forget that those words ever came out of my mouth, please.

                “Yeah, I’m okay. What were we doing again?” The fish, apparently a very rare breed known as the Thomas Fish, stared at me and flicked its fins.

                “Did you hit your head when we were running from the shark? We were taking the stuff you pulled out of that stupid pirate ship to see that damned bird.” Shark? Huh. If my malevolent entity wasn’t making me run from sharks then maybe my luck was turning around. Although, it was honestly sort of a small consolation, considering I was entirely underwater, under moving water at that, and it sort of freaked me out just a little. I mean, it would freak you out too, if you were a Wizard; if this were a normal situation, I’d be totally powerless. And also drowning, but that is another story entirely. Still, as for what was actually going on, Thomas the fishy was swimming upwards towards the surface, so I followed him. I saw a seagull perched atop a small rock, its honeyed eyes gazing off into the distance. I noticed suddenly that a bag thumped rhythmically against the side of my tail and that is a really weird sentence, isn’t it? I say again, Hell’s Bells. I swam up to it, my body feeling more natural in the water than it ever had before, and rested my arms on the side of the rock. The gull looked down at me and cocked its head, its eyes glittering in what probably passed for a smile.

                “Back again?” the bird asked, and it was Kincaid’s voice I heard. “What do you have?” I reached into the bag and pulled out the first thing I found, which just so happened to be a fork. When he saw it, I saw mischief in his eyes, mischief like when he told Murphy how cute her underwear was that one time in the Black Court den. I couldn’t imagine how that could possibly mean anything good. “That? Oh, that’s a, uh, a dinglehopper. See, the humans use those to brush their hair.” Oh, that bastard. That total, complete fucking bastard. “Come on, try it out. Don’t you want to look like the humans do?” My eye twitched. Now he was using peer pressure on me. Kincaid was a dick in any form, obviously. Still, apparently mermaid me was naïve and gullible, so I… I brushed my hair with a fork. Shut up. You weren’t there; you have no idea what it feels like to get pressured to do something by a glorified pigeon. I could tell he was working not to laugh as I tucked the fork back into the bag and pulled out the other object in there, a long stemmed pipe.

                “What about this?” I asked, doing my best to sound genuinely curious and not at all like I knew he was just going to bullshit me to make himself laugh again.

                “That, my darling, is a snarfblat. See, the humans use it as a musical instrument.” Well, at least he was keeping the whole pipe thing, sort of. Just the wrong kind of pipe. So he wasn’t quite as much of a bastard for that one. I would never forgive him for the fork thing, though. Yes, even though that isn’t the real him. Maybe I’ll start throwing forks at him when I see him. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea to me. Maybe, though… I grinned.

                “Really? Will you play it for me?” He cocked his feathered head and seemed to smile again.

                “Me? Nah, see, I’m too experienced with instruments. The snarfblat is played solely by amateurs, such as yourself. Why don’t you play a little something for me instead, Harriet? You are called the queen of the ocean’s song, after all.” That clever son of a bitch. I picked it up and he gestured broadly with one wing to tell me to get on with it. Thomas watched from beside me and finally started urging me on as well. I sighed and put the thing to my mouth, then blew hard. Various bits of ocean muck came tumbling out of the bowl in a sad procession. Kincaid, being a prick, cheered for me. “You got anything else?” I was pretty sure I did, but I didn’t exactly want to face the humiliation. I was about to say so when Thomas yelled.

                “Oh no! Harry, you were supposed to sing at the musical today!” I tried to look all wide-eyed and shocked. I’m not sure how well it worked out. I faked a gasp and I know it sounded fake too.

                “He’s right! I’ve got to go, Kincaid, but thanks for the help!” I dived back under the water and never imagined doing something like that could feel so freeing. I let Thomas lead the way again, though, his body a nearly invisible flash in the shifting waters, but I kept right on his tail (get it, get it?) until we reached a gigantic palace done up in blue-silver-white stones that I had no idea where came from. It was beautiful none the less, though; even more so than any of the land-based palaces I’d been to so far. When I swam inside, though, I was faced with my father. My really, really annoyed looking father. Also, p.s. neither of us have the body to be going around naked but for a fish tail.

                “Harry,” he said, trailing off at the end, and I couldn’t help but smile. I’d never gotten a father to be rebellious at when I was a teenager. I figured I may as well make use of one of the few actual good things these dreams gave me.

                “Yeah?” I asked even though I knew and he rubbed his head. I drifted back in the forth a little in the water, as if I were swaying.

                “Why did you miss the concert? Miss Murphy worked for ages on your part, and yet you didn’t even bother to show up. Your sisters were quite cross with you as well.” Sisters? Huh. That was a weird thought.

                “Sorry, I lost track of time.” He shook his head at me, looking as if he were at a loss.

                “Go to your room. I’ll decide what to do with you later.” Since I really did feel like playing this part, I gave him my very best sarcastic asshole salute and swam off.  

* * *

 

                Two mermaids were in what was apparently my room, the both of them floating lazily in front of a vanity (weren’t we underwater? Why the hell did that mirror still look so nice?). They turned towards me and I recognized both of their faces very well. The first was Lara Raith, her dark hair floating around her head in a lovely halo to frame her gorgeous face. Her eyes were silvered, too, her arms crossed, and huh, even though we weren’t related by blood, I guessed we were sort of siblings; she was Thomas’ half-sister after all. She flicked her gunmetal gray tail at me, and I slid out of the way of the sudden force of water the motion had sent towards me. The other girl turned to face me too and I saw that she was Elaine.

                She looked as she always had, long and coltish and with eyes just a little too big for her face, but she was no less pretty for it. She swam over to me and shoved me just a little, a crooked kind of smile on her face. Lara rolled her eyes.

                “Why’d you miss the concert?” Elaine asked, and I shrugged. She sighed. “You were out getting human things again, weren’t you? Father won’t keep standing for it, you know. It’s not like he’s doing it out of cruelty anyway. He just doesn’t want them to hurt you. The humans, they wouldn’t understand you.” That wasn’t the first time I heard something like that, that humans would never understand me. It used to be a mantra of DuMorne’s. He used to tell me, and Elaine too, all the time about how he was the only one who’d ever understand us and our strangeness. I’d proved him wrong, though, even if I’d only been able to do it after he was long dead. Before the end of this dream, I’d prove it again.

                “Nothing I’m doing is hurting anyone, and besides, that concert was probably better without my caterwauling in it anyway.” Lara laughed.

                “Quite. I played your part for you rather well. Still yet, father wanted you to be there as well.” I snorted.

“Whatever. Look, I’m going out again. I’ll see you later.” I then proceeded to swim out of a window, the bag still over my shoulder, and Thomas caught up with me swiftly. So too did a little crab, but I pretended not to notice it as Thomas led me towards a cave blocked by a thick slab of rock.

                I grabbed it with both hands and pulled, like, a lot harder than was necessary because the rock just went flying off into the distant ocean where I couldn’t be bothered to go fetch it. Instead, I just wiggled my way through the tiny gap in the stone and found myself in an enormously tall cavern, its walls lined with jars and common doodads that I was faced with every day and generally didn’t give two shits about. Like this, though, sparkling under the water, wavering in front of my eyes, displayed with such pride, they looked like the greatest of treasures. I couldn’t help but touch a silver candelabrum gently, as if it were priceless. Thomas flitted around my wrist, apparently sensing some type of sadness in me, and together we swam up, up, up, towards the glistening light of the surface. It was almost like I could feel the icy breath of the moon from all the way down there, and it was hypnotizing. I then felt a claw on my tail (weirdest sentence ever) and I stopped immediately, yelped at the pain. To this day I question the logic of how I got literally no water in my mouth from that, or from when I spoke any other time.

                I twisted my upper body around carefully and saw that the little crab was the one who clutched at my tail. I flicked it to try and shake the creature off, but it stayed determinedly attached.

                “Can I ask what you want?” I asked, and the crab finally let me go. I didn’t run off, since I was curious, and the crab carefully managed to swim up to my face.

                “The King asked me to look after you and make sure you don’t do something stupid. Like swim right up to the damn surface.” Murphy. Murphy was the crab. I snickered just a little and I’m sure she took it as a product of my teenage disrespect for authority, which actually had existed for about six months or so. It was actually just because she looked so damn cute, with her little crab face all angry and such. I patted her on the head just because I could and she snapped at my fingers with a claw. I pulled my fingers away because Murphys are apparently dangerous in any form. “And look at all this… this… junk! What would he say if he saw it, Harry?” I yawned.

                “Probably that I shouldn’t be so fascinated by the stuff made by creatures that eat my fishy friends.” Murphy stared for a moment, and then shook her head, took my by the hair, and started working to tug me out.

                “You’re going home. You’re far easier to handle when you’re in the palace,” she told me, and Thomas was raging in the corner that I was royalty and could therefore do what I wanted, but I didn’t particularly care. No, what I cared about was the massive shadow of a boat passing just overhead, and I knew I had to get to it. I had to try and get across to Marcone that these weren’t just dreams before I lost my voice. I jerked my tail hard and, in her shock, Murphy let go. I swam fast up to the surface, too fast for her to keep up with her clumsy crab swimming, and my head broke through the surface with a splash. I took a deep breath and found that I could breathe just as well on the surface as underwater.

                A boat floated by slowly, the men on board singing a jolly sea shanty. I swam up to it, my tail appearing periodically just above the water, and I stretched up to look on the deck through a tiny square cut into the wood. That was when I saw him, Marcone, playing with my dog, laughing, looking every bit the prince he was playing. Hendricks stood beside him and they talked about marriage (apparently Marcone hadn’t been fond of the princess they’d just visited) and Mouse bounced up to put his paws on the man’s shoulders like he could never quite manage with me. Marcone grinned when Mouse licked his cheek, but then the dog jumped off of him and ran over to the little window that I was peeking through. The mutt then proceeded to lick my face and I grinned at the familiarity, barely resisting the urge to reach through and scratch the critter behind his ears when Marcone called for him to come back.

                I poked my head through a little more and hoped for him to notice me without me having to draw attention to myself with any sort of noise, but obviously that would’ve been too easy. I cleared my throat and tried to yell for him, but the words got stuck in my throat. I tried again and still it didn’t work. I heard a voice, then, distorted, feminine, in the back of my head.

                “You can’t change the rules,” the voice sing-songed, and I knew what it meant, knew that it expected me to continue following the story. I swallowed and Kincaid flew up to me, yelling all the way. I hushed him even though I’d sort of hoped he’d get me caught, and then I just watched silently as Hendricks presented Marcone with a grossly over-sized and over-proportioned statue of himself. Keeping quiet was almost worth the dumbfounded look on the man’s usually unflappable face.

                Anyway, I kept watching for a while, and the scene, the dancing, the music, felt so excruciatingly normal that when the storm rose out of nowhere, when the ocean started to gnash and moan around me, I dropped my grip on the boat and fell back into the water. The gale force winds swept Kincaid off into the distance somewhere. A dorsal fin rubbed delicately into my back, and when I peeked under the water I saw Thomas there, Murphy paddling valiantly to stay at least mostly in control in the wild waters.

                The people on the boat were struggling to keep it upright and going the correct direction, Marcone among them, and it almost seemed like their work would pay off, for a moment, but then the lightning struck and the thing went up in flames. I spared a quick thought for how pretty it looked on the water, before worry stabbed at my heart again. I kept watching as most of the men managed to get onto a lifeboat, Marcone among them, but Mouse, my beloved fur face, my dog, was still on the boat, woofing madly. I glanced over at the lifeboat and saw Hendricks grabbing at Marcone’s shirt, but it didn’t matter because Marcone was in the water, Marcone was getting back onto the boat.

                I found myself holding my breath as he called for Mouse, as he narrowly avoided a collapsing mast, but then he had the massive creature mostly in his arms in a sort of awkward walk/drag, and I thought that maybe he’d actually get off on his own. He got to the railing before something, I couldn’t tell what, happened and Mouse went flying down onto the boat without him.

                He was holding the rail and seemed to be struggling with something, getting more and more desperate as the cries from the lifeboat reached impressive levels of urgency, and I found myself wishing I could do something, anything, to help, something to make me feel less terribly useless. I couldn’t think of anything; Stones, I couldn’t even get onto the boat like this. That was when something, probably gun powder, based on the era this story seemed to take place in, and exploded.

                My heart stopped. My heart stopped, and I already knew the story, but it didn’t seem to matter. I scrambled back into the water, swam towards the wrecked boat as fast as I could manage, and twisted my way through the chunks of entirely random debris. I found him, miraculously alive and semi-conscious, clutching at a piece of soon-to-be driftwood. That bit of consciousness fled as I reached him, and he slipped into the water. He was only under for a second, maybe two, before I managed to wrap my arms around his chest and pull him back to the surface. His head listed backwards against my shoulder as I twisted us around and swam backwards away from the quickly sinking boat, doing my best to stay in the direction it had been heading.

                He felt heavy in my arms, all deadweight, and I feared that I’d certainly run into something with the way I had to swim to keep his head above water, but eventually, as the sun was rising, I managed to catch sight of land not too far away. I had no idea where Thomas and Murphy had gone, though, and that worried me a little. I knew, however, that the current priority was to get Marcone on dry land and hopefully wake him up before I had to run off because I needed to tell him that I was real, needed him to know so that maybe we could figure out how to make these damn dreams go away.

                The sand scraped at my back as I pulled him onto the shore, but it certainly wasn’t the worse thing I ever felt. I shook him almost angrily, watched his chest rise and fall with his breath, but his eyes stayed resolutely closed. I sighed and rubbed my head, my tail starting to feel uncomfortably dry and stiff under the sunlight.

                “Damn it, Marcone. Do you have to be so damned frustrating in every form? Why don’t you just wake the hell up?” I smooshed his face with both of my hands and found it to be as cold as the ocean water I’d just dredged him out of, and leaned down a little closer to his face. “Such a fucking bastard. How come you always have to be my prince anyway, huh? I’ve got way better prospects out there. Some of them are actual royalty, too. I mean, you’re just a baron. In what world does that equal anything close to prince? And you’re sure as hell not charming. Well, actually, I guess you sort of are. But not in the good way. You’re charming in the criminal scumbag way. You do act like a prince sometimes, though; I’ve caught that sort of vibe around you. Maybe you have royalty in the background somewhere. Although, you’re getting way too old to be a prince; king would suit you better, I guess. King of Chicago,” I said, and realized that I was babbling. That was pretty weird, considering I usually only did that when I was nervous or talking about something I thought was really cool, and neither of those things seemed to apply to that particular moment.

                Anyway, once I realized that I’d just been babbling and smooshing his face for about five minutes, I patted his cheeks and leaned up again. It was at that point that his eyes started opening just a little, but it was also at that point that I noticed Mouse running towards us with Hendricks close behind. I knew that was my cue to leave, too, so I whipped around and pulled and wriggled my way back into the water. I made it just before they noticed me and found Kincaid, Thomas, and Murphy waiting for me. Thomas looked vaguely annoyed, Kincaid looked giggly, and Murphy looked caught about halfway between shock and anger. Hendricks helped a very confused Marcone to his feet and walked him towards a palace in the distance, Mouse bouncing around their feet and sparing a few glances back to the rock I was currently hiding behind.

                “Okay. We just need to forget about this. Literally all of this. If we don’t remember it, we can’t tell the King, and if we can’t tell the king, he won’t know about this. Good. Come on, Harry, Thomas.” Thomas grumbled.

                “A human? What’s so great about a human? Their stuff, yeah, but… a human?” he grumbled, and I snorted, waved to Kincaid (who had been snickering and snuffling and cackling ever since I got back, mostly at Murphy’s totally shell-shocked reaction) and swam back to the underwater kingdom with Thomas and Murphy.

* * *

 

                I spent the next morning in some kind of sitting room made of coral and stone and colorful underwater flowers, Murphy click-clacking her way across the stone beside me. She murmured her worries to the water, to the bubbles, and I could generally make out a word or two every couple of minutes. I teased at some flower petals with my fingertips, my thoughts a thousand miles away, and then Murphy floated up to my face. Her eyes were still blue, I realized, and wasn’t that the strangest thing? They stood out sharply against her shell, too, a red-orange-yellow speckled thing, but Murphy had always been unique. I couldn’t expect that to change here.

                “You know I care about you, right?” she asked it suddenly, and I jumped, blinked. Of course I did; I knew it in this world and the other. Stars and Stones, the fact that she cared about me was probably one of the few things I could count as constant.

                “Of course I do, Murph,” I murmured, and she nodded.

                “That’s good. You’re a princess, I know that, the youngest one, so you’ll never inherit the throne; even still, the King has told me over and over that I can’t favor any of his daughters, considering I’m his advisor. He’s told me so ever since you were young, when I tutored you and played with you. It’s not like I can help it, though; there’s something likable about you. You’re headstrong and you can be kind of stupid and you never practice your music but you’re likable. That’s why I don’t want you messing around with those humans.” I cocked my head and grinned.

                “I don’t think they’d spear me, Murphy.” She sighed.

                “They eat fish and they worship flesh. You’re part both, and you’re beautiful. Who’s to say what they’d do to you? They could hurt you somehow; keep you in a tank somewhere, in a personal lake to admire you. Your father wouldn’t be able to handle it and I don’t think I could either. I really do love you, you know; I can’t say I have many good friends, people I trust, but you’re one of the few. Why would you want to leave here anyway? This place is beautiful, as close to perfect as we could ever ask for.”

                “A gilded cage is still a cage,” I said, and I’d said that before too, or thought it, at least. I’d been offered a lot of gilded cages, in my time, lived in a few too; DuMorne’s had been the first. A pretty gilded cage where he groomed me and talked to me and told me he loved me, until I messed up, and then the cage turned into iron and I saw the truth. I didn’t accept it for a long time after that, though, because that gilded cage had been so wonderful and so long as I kept him happy he let me stay there. The wool did eventually leave my eyes, though, and I saw the world outside, the world full of normal people that I so desperately wanted to belong to. Normal people who didn’t believe in magic and who led normal lives and who smiled and laughed and loved each other and I had wished for a long time that I could be one of them, after I killed DuMorne, after I went to live with Eb.

                I’d learned that I could be part of their world too, though; I’d learned that even if I wasn’t quite one of them, there were people out there who’d treat me as if I were, people who hardly noticed the difference and didn’t often mention it when they did. I’d managed to stay out of the other cages, too, with their help. This place, though, this ocean, was something like one of those old cages.

                “The ocean is hardly a cage,” she said, “You’re a princess; you can go and do whatever you like, so long as it doesn’t involve humans. We only want what’s best for you, you know. We just want to keep you safe. None of us could stand to see you hurt,” she whispered, and her eyes looked a little hurt behind the usual ice. I ran a finger across the back of her shell and she smiled.  

                “I can’t leave. That’s cage enough for me. Besides, I can take care of myself, and I can decide what’s best for me too. I belong to, I rule, myself.” She sighed and smiled and laughed and it felt so discomfortingly real.

                “I’m beginning to think that stubborn doesn’t begin to describe you. I was hoping I could talk some sense into you, you know, but obviously that’s not happening. Come on, Thomas told me he had something in your little _museum_ for you.” I smiled, crooked and loose, and when we swam away I didn’t notice Lara hiding behind a pillar, a cool smirk on her face as she swam towards my father’s throne room.

* * *

 

                We met up with Thomas about halfway there, and laughed as I watched him swim in wide, spiraling loops, hazy and dreamlike.

                “Harry’s in love, Harry’s in love,” he chanted, and I snorted.

                “I thought you weren’t big on the whole human thing either.” He grinned, and it flashed across his face as quickly as his body flashed through the water.

                “Yeah, well, I don’t get it, but I’ve always told you that I’d support your choices. I mean, personally, I think he’s too squishy and pinkish, and that he smells funny, and I certainly wouldn’t want to spend any extended length of time with him, but hey, if you have bad taste, I can’t stop you. Come inside, I left your present there,” he told me, and it was hard to miss what it was he saw as I entered the cavern: the statue of Marcone held a place of honor in the center. I had to laugh at the sight of it again because it looked even more ridiculous close up; his mouth was set in a stern line I’d never seen before, his hair was so slicked back that he’d have to use at least a tub of gel to get it to stay, his shoulders were twice as broad as they actually were, and his waist was pinched nearly to the point of impossibility. His eyes were at least accurate, though; they were the right shape, set correctly on his face, and I could easily imagine them done in vibrant money green. Not that I would actually care about accuracy in relation to a thing like that, though. That’d be sort of ridiculous.

                “Thanks,” I managed between giggles, not even bothering to question the logistics of how the teensy weensy little fishy had managed to tug a giant stone statue through a comparatively small entrance way because dream logic is weird anyway. Anyway, the three of us sat in there for a while, but then my dad and Lara thundered through the opening to the cavern, his face something like pissed and hers something like pleased. The shock had me silent as he began to speak.

                “I do not wish to think of how many times I have told you not to associate with humans, and yet I hear of this place. Yet I hear of my trusted advisor escorting you here. Yet I hear of countless trips to the surface. What will it take for you to listen to me? Must one of them truly hurt you before you understand that they are dangerous? I only want your safety!” Lara smirked and swam up, steel colored tail flicking Thomas in the face and making him growl.

                “Father, she’s saved a human too; just yesterday! I heard her speaking of it to the fish as she came home.” My father rubbed at his head. “He’s the one she’s fallen for, I know it with near certainty,” she murmured, her hands settling on my father’s shoulders, her teasing eyes fixed on my face. I gaped.

                “My child,” he whispered, “Perhaps this is my fault. I always told you to be compassionate, to be loving. There is a limit, however; why save a creature who would not do you the same courtesy? Those beasts eat fish!”

                “They’re not all bad. If they knew, don’t you think they’d stop? If they knew about us?” He closed his eyes.

                “I could hope for that to be true, and sometimes I do, but there is too much risk, most especially for my youngest child. Come, out of here, all of us.” I didn’t even have a chance to look back before we were outside, before my dad had caved in the cavern’s entrance. “Perhaps if you’ve not got the temptation you’ll keep your head where it belongs, find a nice merman to marry; there are many who’d love the chance, you know.” None of us spoke on the way back, and I guess that could be expected; I’d never thought quite that much tension could arise underwater, of all places. Nothing much happened until that evening, at which point too eels wiggled in through my window, each of them with one glowing golden eye and one milky, pale white one. They swam around me, bodies brushing against mine, and the sensation disturbed me excessively, so I slipped away from them as best I could even though I knew what they would do, knew that they’d only try to convince me to pay a visit to the sea witch.

                “Poor little darling,” one whispered in Lily’s voice, and the other shoved her out of the way harshly, although their tails still twined together, connecting them.

                “Poor sweet child,” said the other, Maeve, and Lily knocked her to the side.

                “A serious problem you have, a serious problem indeed!”

                “Shall we offer help? Someone you can go to?”

                “Mab specializes in problems such as this.” Mab. Of course it was Mab. Really these dreams were getting sort of predictable. You know, you start having the weirdest complaints, once you’ve been a Wizard for long enough. Anyway, they both freaked me out, a little, they both disturbed me and I knew that they wanted nothing so much as to trap me, to let Mab trap me, but I nodded anyway.

                “I’ll go,” I said, and they spared sharp grins to each other as they led me out of the palace through the window, towards a trench and an admittedly terrifying cave. Thomas and Murphy followed behind us and tried to pretend that they were being sneaky. I did my best to avoid letting on that I saw them, and also tried to stay closer to the Lily eel, because even though she’d been succumbing more and more to the Summer Mantle, she was still safer, more trustworthy, than Mab. She was still Summer, even if she was no longer human. Their bickering as we slipped into the cave was almost comforting, especially when I was confronted with the garden of graying, dying things, dying things that screamed and cried and grabbed at me and begged and Hell’s Bells, it was so hard to ignore them because I wanted to help. Eventually I had to close my eyes and float towards where Mab was on instinct. Her voice was quick to lead me, though.

                “It’s very rude to lurk in doorways, you know. And you call yourself a princess,” she said, and I opened my eyes, saw her floating towards me. She was as beautiful as ever, her upper body merging almost seamlessly with white tentacles, her white hair brilliant and almost too bright around her head, her gold eyes unnerving in the darkness, and her fingertips reaching out for me. She caressed my face and smiled, her lips like blackberry jam. “I’ve heard, sweet, that you long for a very particular thing. A prince, I believe? Why, to have him, you simply must be a human too, yes?”

                “You could manage that?” I asked her, and once I’d have jumped on an offer like that, an offer to be fully normal, fully human. Not now, though, not anymore. I guessed I didn’t exactly have a choice, though, if I wanted to get to where I could try to talk to Marcone again.

                “Of course! I’m a witch, angelfish; this is what I do. I help people, you see? Those,” she paused for a tiny, conspiratorial laugh, “poor unfortunate souls. Although, of course I have to charge for these things; I’ll admit that I’m no saint. And sometimes, you see, those poor souls simply can’t pay the price. You, though, my little princess… why, there’s no price you can’t pay! I’ll make you a potion, yes? A potion to make you human for three days. And all you have to do is get your darling prince to give you one little kiss; true love’s kiss. Now, if he does it, you’ll be human forever, get your happily ever after, all that mess. If he doesn’t, though… little angelfish, you’ll be mine.” I stepped away from her just a little, and glanced behind me. Murphy and Thomas were in the doorway, a little too nervous to come up and take me away. They were smart to be wary, though; even in a dream I couldn’t be sure of how dangerous Mab, or the image of her, could be.

                “Seems like a pretty short timeline,” I mumbled, and Mab laughed.

                “Yes, well, life isn’t meant to be easy, is it? The challenge is half the fun! Ah, and I’ve yet to tell you your payment! I don’t want much, really; I’ve always been a generous soul. Only your voice,” she said, and the words, though I was expecting them sent a shock of primal fear through me. A Wizard without his voice was as good as worthless.

                “So, I’ve got three days to make him fall for me, and I can’t talk to help the process along. Seems like you might be cheating just a little.” Mab laughed again.

                “Oh, child, no! If anything I’m helping you along! Human men, you see, they don’t care much for conversation; they’d rather their women stay silent and look pretty. You can manage that, can’t you? Why, if you use the right _body language_ you’ll have him eating out of your sweet little hands in no time at all!” She swayed her hips and tickled under my chin, a strange sort of smile on her face.

                “Harry, don’t!” Murphy and Thomas finally yelled, “Don’t trust her! You don’t have to do this!”

                “We can talk to your father. If we explain, he’ll-,” I cut Murphy off and felt awful because I’ve never done that before.

                “This is the only way,” I said, “I’ll do it.” I could almost hear the cage snap shut behind me. Mab always had wanted me; at least, I supposed, this was only a dream.  

                “Oh, smart little thing! Beautiful little thing! Here, here, your contract. Sign your name and we’ll have it done!” The golden contract appeared before me in a flash and I signed my name in a quick, messy scrawl. I felt it bind me even in the dream, and then Mab slipped a bottle into my hand. “Drink,” she told me, “And then sing a little.”

                I downed it and it tasted disgusting, which was kind of expected, although I couldn’t identify the exact components of it. I opened my mouth, then, opened my mouth and let out an easy note that actually didn’t sound too terrible, and Mab touched my throat with sharp fingers. I held the note until suddenly I couldn’t, until Mab held a tiny silver orb and slipped it into the conch shell around her neck. And then I felt myself changing, and it hurt.

                My tail split into legs and I felt like I should’ve been bleeding, I burned as if I was, my fins turned into feet and split at the ends into toes and I would’ve screamed if I could’ve. That was when it truly came to me; I didn’t have my voice anymore. I couldn’t make a single noise. If I were in the real world, I’d have been helpless. I wouldn’t be able to cast. It was something like my biggest fear come true; Hell’s Bells, I’d once stayed holed up in my apartment for a solid week, wards on the door and my emergency ones set to go off, just because I’d had laryngitis and couldn’t speak. If this happened in the real world it would hardly be short of suicide and the thought terrified me right to my core. I thrashed around and realized that as an added bonus I could no longer breathe and my vision was going a little spotty and then Thomas and Murphy were helping me to the surface and the sun felt wonderful and I filled my lungs until they burned.

                I gave them a look that I hoped got across how grateful I was and swam up to the shore, let myself collapse there and hardly spared a thought to the fact that I was now naked. Kincaid flew down and landed on my leg a few moments later, his birdy eyebrows raised, and then he laughed and did a little tap dance on the new limb. Thomas and Murphy watched him, almost amused despite the situation.

                “Well, don’t you look different,” he said, and I rolled my eyes. “Catfish got your tongue?” he asked me. I sighed but no noise came out.

                “She made a deal with Mab; her voice for legs,” Murphy finally shouted, her frustration coming to a head, and Thomas looked not far behind. In all honesty, they both raged for a while, about how stupid, how careless I was, how reckless, how angry and worried my dad would be, Kincaid putting in his two cents periodically, but then they just suddenly calmed.

                “What’s done is done,” Thomas finally mumbled, and he looked like he wanted to touch me, but he couldn’t get out of the water to do it. “The only thing we can do now is help you get your man,” he said, and Murphy nodded.

                “First thing’s first, though; you need to put clothes on. The humans don’t take kindly to that kind of thing,” Kincaid said, gesturing at my body. I nodded and stood, stumbled on clumsy, weak legs to a pile of canvas, and carefully managed to cover myself with it by way of what I think was a truly ingenious use of rope. Also, may I say that it was a way more comfortable dress than any of the others I’d recently been shoved into? It was loose and cozy and admittedly a little damp, although that might’ve been my skin, but all in all it was pretty cool. Not something I’d ever wear if I had options, but, you know, it had to be the best of a bad situation. “Good. Now, princey boy has been mooning over there on the stairs. Go wait on that rock over there; his mutt likes the smell of you. It’ll come running and he’ll chase after it and see you.” I nodded again and did what he said, because hey, he probably knew better than me.

* * *

 

                Hardly five minutes passed before he was proven right and my enormous dog came scrambling up to me, bouncing and uffing, laying wet doggy kisses to my cheeks, and I heard Marcone in the distance yelling for him. He stopped abruptly when he saw me, though, came towards me like a man possessed and took me by the hands.

                “I recognize you,” he mumbled, “It seems my dog does as well; he only reacts this way to people he likes. Have we met?” I nodded, and he brightened exponentially, brightened in a way that I hardly ever saw.

                “You’re the one, then? The pretty thing who saved me?” I crossed my legs and scratched my ankle with my toe, nodding vaguely but not quite in a way he’d recognize as a for sure nod. “I knew I’d find you, although Hendricks swore I wouldn’t. Polite girls don’t go around saving men from drowning and then running away, he told me, although, you’re not a girl, are you?” I shook my head and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Will you speak to me? I remember your voice,” he told me, and I shut my eyes, pointed at my throat. His eyes went wide. “You can’t speak?” I shook my head again and he sort of deflated. “Oh. I suppose… I suppose I’ve got the wrong person, then. My apologies. Still, why don’t you come to the palace with me? We’ll get you cleaned up, dress you well, and give you some food. It’s not safe for someone like you to simply sit by the ocean like this; who knows who might come by?” I jumped off of the rock and he politely didn’t look when the makeshift dress revealed the things it had been made to hide.

                As we walked back to the castle, Mouse bounded around my feet and seemed somewhat annoyed with Marcone, rolling his doggy eyes and letting his tongue loll out tiredly, as if he were world weary.

                “I forgot to ask, may I have your name?” I raised my eyebrows but he didn’t seem to realize the issue with his statement. Finally I let out another noiseless sigh and stopped walking, took him by the hand. He looked a little shocked at the gesture, and I realized that if he wasn’t actually the real Marcone, really did think that he was nothing more than the prince of a foreign land in a time long passed, I’d probably just done something really forward and vaguely inappropriate. I didn’t really care, though; I had more important things to worry about.

                I settled his hand palm up in mine and squeezed his fingers a little when he tried to move it, and then started tracing careful letters on his palm. When I stopped he looked up at me and smiled.

                “Harry?” I nodded, and he looked like I’d just given him the world. “Harry. I don’t know why, but I must say that suits you. My name is John Marcone.” He kept hold of my hand as we entered the palace and everyone stared. I assumed they thought he’d gone absolutely crazy, bringing back a scantily clad person like me and holding hands, but that, too, was beyond my scope of worry at the moment. “I simply must wonder what has happened to you, you know. You’re quite lovely; I can’t imagine what has occurred, to rob you of your voice and send you to my shores.” I could tell just exactly the kinds of things he was implying, and I knew that he knew I recognized it. I shook my head and waved my free hand in front of me in the ‘no’ gesture. He raised a single eyebrow as we entered a bathroom and a handmaiden started the complicated work of undoing the knots I worked so hard on. I took his hand again and he let me since he knew what I was doing now.

                I tried to spell ‘Chicago’ first, but he only looked confused and told me he didn’t know what I meant. I couldn’t help but think that my malevolent entity was messing with my attempts, making him feel something different than what I was spelling, but there was nothing for it, so I just spelled ‘shipwreck’ instead and he nodded in understanding.

                “You were in a shipwreck?” I nodded even though it was a lie because that sounded like a plausible explanation, and the handmaiden finally got me undressed and into a steadily bubbling tub before she sent my clothes off to be _washed_ which I knew meant promptly destroyed. “You were born without your voice then, I presume?” I nodded again because, once more, that was just easier. “How strange.” It was at that point that the handmaiden ran him out because apparently it was very rude for him to watch me bathe. He managed to promise that he’d see me for dinner just before he was sent on his merry way.

                After that, things happened in a blur. My tangled hair was brushed and a string of pearls was draped around my neck and a pretty, fluffy blue dress was slipped on me. The handmaiden then proceeded to hurry me into a dining room, where Hendricks smiled as much as he ever smiles and helped me sit.

                “She’s pretty, right, Sir?” he asked Marcone, and Marcone smiled, chuckled warmly.

                “Very much so. Although, Hendricks, I believe you’re spoken for. Lady Gard wouldn’t take too kindly to you falling for someone else, would she?” Hendricks rolled his eyes and somehow managed to get more annoyance into that one glance than I previously thought possible, and I know Murphy.

                “I was talking about for you.” Marcone waved him off.

                “You do realize that Harry is mute, not deaf, correct? He can hear you.” Hendricks looked vaguely embarrassed and I laughed even though no one could hear me do it. Marcone smiled, apparently happy that he’d amused me, and I had to admit that bastard or not, he was a clever son of a bitch and had been since I’d met him. “Will we have dinner soon?” The handmaiden nodded and ran off, and after that there was some idle chatter, Marcone sometimes holding his palm out to me when he wanted me to contribute something more than a yes or a no. Hendricks watched all that with a careful eye and finally sighed.

                “We’ll have to find some other way for her to communicate. The townsfolk won’t like seeing her do that; it’s inappropriate.” Marcone smiled and settled his free hand over the one that I was using to trace letters.

                “Unless you’d prefer he carried parchment and a quill everywhere with him, I believe that this is the best option. The townsfolk will simply have to deal with it.” It was at that point that I realized how strange it was that a select few people referred to me as male while everyone else called me female and no one ever even bothered to question it. Apparently my dreams allowed people to miss really, really obvious stuff.

                I didn’t have time to ponder that for long, though, because the lady brought us trays of food and oh Hell’s Bells one of them was moving. I tried to gesture for her to give that one to me but she didn’t seem to get it or care because she gave it to Hendricks instead. I bit at my lip and when Marcone asked why I looked so nervous all of a sudden I just shook my head and lifted up the tray’s lid. Crab. Shit, shit, shit. I pushed the tray away from me a little, and Hendricks and Marcone both stared at me.

                “You don’t like crab?” Hendricks asked, and I shook my head, wiggling my hand a little to let Marcone know that I wanted to tell him something. He moved the hand settled on mine and I quickly spelled out ‘no meat’ which was a bold faced lie but would have to do for the moment.

                “He says he doesn’t eat meat. Will you go find the maid and have her bring him something else from the kitchen? Perhaps a salad?” I nodded and put on my best puppy dog face (which I’ve been told is truly exemplary) and Hendricks rolled his eyes, stood, and left to do just that. Marcone turned his head to look out the window a few seconds later, explaining the history of some kind of tower that sat on a small island a few miles out on the ocean, and I saw my chance. I picked up Hendricks’ tray and saw Murphy there, gestured quickly for her to come sit on my lap, and she did so. I managed to replace the lid of Hendricks tray just in time, and Marcone asked me questions for a while longer, which I answered as best I could, at which point Hendricks returned with a fresh, green looking salad. I offered him a smile in thanks and he nodded as I dug in ravenously.

                He then lifted his tray, and although he was confused at the obvious lack of a crab, he didn’t bother asking questions because hey, the one I didn’t want was right there, so it didn’t exactly matter. Despite my inability to speak, I had to admit that it was a pretty good dinner, and when I was led to what would apparently be my room later that night, Murphy cupped carefully in my hands to hide her; I fell asleep quickly and slept well, Murphy resting on the pillow beside my head. I really would have to ask her how she ended up under that tray some time though; it had to be a good story. It was at that point that I realized I was thinking as if this stupid situation was real and went to sleep even faster because that much stupid can only be fixed my a whole lot of rest.

* * *

 

                After breakfast the next morning Marcone led me outside and into a carriage, saying he wanted to show me his kingdom, and I felt oddly like it was that first time we met again, except on way more pleasant circumstances. I scrambled awkwardly into the carriage, my legs refusing to do what I wanted them to because of the stupid dress I had to wear, and plopped down beside Johnny, who had some kind of weird finery on that I couldn’t quite identify the origin of. He snapped the reigns and the horses took off and the wind in my face made me grin wildly; it had been a while since I’d gotten to do something so freeing.  He looked over and apparently saw that I was having fun because he spurred the horses on faster and leaned forward as if he were racing, a tight grin I’d come to associate with the part of him that wasn’t the Gentleman painting his face.

                “Would you like to drive for a bit?” he asked me, and I nodded because I hadn’t gotten to drive a carriage since I lived with Eb and I missed doing it. I took the reins from him and they felt like old friends in my hands, like some long forgotten things that never should’ve left. I recalled suddenly a horse I’d once favored, a gigantic, dappled gray stallion that hated pretty much everyone else. I’d ridden the thing most every day, around and around whenever I had free time, into the nearby town where it wasn’t weird to ride a horse to the store. I suddenly had a weird desire to ride again; maybe I’d pay Eb a visit sometime soon, saddle up one more time for old time’s sake. I steered the carriage into town and parked it, Marcone taking me by the hand and helping me down, then leading me around and pointing out the things he thought were important. He even bought me a shiny red apple, which I munched on while he spoke and even though the townsfolk stared at us Marcone didn’t acknowledge them. My hand clenched his for no particular reason and he gave me a smile like sunshine and again I had a hard time believing that this Marcone was really Marcone but I didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure until I was able to ask.

                We shopped until it got dark, even danced a little in the square where some travelling minstrel was playing, and then he led me back to the cart and drove it to a river bank where a little wooden boat floated. He helped me into that too even though I didn’t need it, and I had a stray thought that the moniker of Gentleman might’ve just been well-earned.

                We rowed out to an open area and then he stopped and just sort of looked at me and I really wanted to say something all of a sudden, so I took him by the hand and wrote ‘I’m happy’ on his palm. He looked shocked again for a moment, but then he smiled.

                “I’m glad,” he whispered, “I must confess that I am too. You’re so… I don’t think I’ve even got the words for what you are.” I smiled and if I could’ve spoken I’d have told him that I got that a lot, although it didn’t usually sound quite so complimentary. It was silent for a few minutes and then I heard Murphy and Thomas crooning that he should probably kiss me right about now. I could hardly hide my laughter at that and at his confusion. “Do you hear something?” he finally asked, and I was quick to shake my head, so he just got more confused. As the song went on, though, he seemed to be getting more and more inclined to listen to it, most especially when Thomas started saying, ‘come on, asshole, he’s right there and he’s fucking adorable. Just make out with him already.’

                 Even I was starting to become pretty receptive to the idea of kissing him right then because he was handsome and he was nice and he was funny and here it was okay to like him, I was allowed even if I didn’t quite want to be. I really wished I knew if he was real or not but that stopped being so important when we started leaning into each other and our eyes closed and then, oh, hey, we were really wet all of a sudden and that is, surprisingly enough, not generally conducive to kissing and other such activities, so we just scrambled back into the boat and went back to the palace. He told me goodnight and kissed my cheek and I went to sleep wishing for more and being confused at myself for it; I’d thought feelings like that would stop now that I had suspicions that he could be the real Marcone.

* * *

 

                I was awoken the next morning by the not-at-all pleasant sound of a seagull crashing into my window, and said sound sent me careening off of the bed and onto the floor. I might be just the tiniest bit jumpy, but really I’m pretty sure that I’ve often been given perfectly good reasons to be.

Anyway, when I managed to scramble back up to my feet I caught sight of Kincaid perched outside the window, head cocked and beak sort of open, staring at the closed window as if its mere existence shocked the hell out of him. I had no idea how hard he’d hit his head, but that particular brand of blank stare had me worried that it had been just a little too hard. I really didn’t want to deal with a concussed seagull Kincaid, but I assumed I didn’t have a choice so I opened the window and let him hop inside. Thankfully, the blank gaze left him and he just gave me the birdy smile again.

                “There’s my princess! Looks like you’re going to be a queen after all, huh?” I cocked my head to get across my confusion, and he sighed. “Are you really trying to tell me that you didn’t know about your own wedding? It’s all over the kingdom, ‘prince Marcone is getting married to mysterious girl from the ocean!’ I’m pretty sure you’re the only one of those around at the moment.” I still felt pretty confused, but that obviously didn’t matter to Kincaid because he just patted my face with his wing. “Ah, whatever. I’m sure he’d have told you eventually. Maybe when you got on the boat with him for it to happen. Well, whatever; I promise I’ll be there! You’d better start getting ready.” And then he flew out the window again and Murphy sort of stirred.

                “It worked?” she murmured, “It worked! Hurry up, go downstairs and greet him!” she yelled, shoving me clumsily out the door, and I did hurry my way downstairs even though I knew what I’d see, and it definitely wasn’t a prince charming waiting to sweep me off to an altar.  

                “Looks like I was wrong, then,” I heard Hendricks say before I actually saw the scene, “Polite girls do wander around in oceans and save people. She’s pretty, too.” I leaned forward from my place behind a pillar and saw what I already knew I’d see. A weird sort of hurt sprouted up in my chest anyway, though, a hurt I could hardly understand well enough to name.

                Mab had made herself into a human, had draped herself over Marcone’s arm, and she smiled like an angel towards Hendricks, who just looked a little lost. Marcone, though… his eyes were faded and dark, a hazy shield fuzzing them around the edges, and he stood more stiffly than I’d ever seen. He was enchanted, I could tell it just by looking at him, and when he spoke that was only confirmed.

                “We want to be married immediately; this afternoon. Have a boat ready for us.” And then he just turned stiffly and walked out with her, not chatting, not smiling, just staring and moving. I turned and ran back up to my bedroom, and I was there for maybe ten minutes or so, Murphy trying as best she could to discover what had happened, before Hendricks opened the door and stepped inside. Murphy scrabbled into my pillow case to hide, and I was at least mostly positive that he hadn’t seen her there. I gave him a look that I hope conveyed that he should tell me why he was there.

                “I know you saw that. Oh, come on, don’t try and look so innocent; I saw you behind the pillar. I’m not stupid, you know. I just… look, I don’t know what it is about that woman, but I don’t like her. John isn’t smiling, not like he does with you. Hell, I haven’t seen him smile like he does with you since we were children. I’m going to get you onto the boat, okay? To figure out what’s going on with him. He isn’t even acting like himself, and I’m worried.” I held out my hand in the gesture that John had come to understand as meaning that I wanted to speak, and apparently Hendricks had too because he settled his hand in the proper position on top of mine. “He’d probably try to duel me over this, if he saw it when he was in his right mind. He thinks this is yours and his thing,” he murmured, and I just rolled my eyes and wrote ‘witch’ on his palm.

                He gave me his very best incredulous stare for that, and pulled his hand away to cross his arms. He looks a lot more threatening when he’s glowering down at you, by the way; see, this was the first time I’d seen him like that, since normally I’m way too tall for that. Sitting sort of sucks sometimes, by the way.

               “You think she’s a witch.” I nodded, and then pointed at my throat again, trying to make a gesture that would make him guess ‘voice removal’. Surprisingly enough, he actually got it. “She took your voice?” I nodded. He still looked as if he didn’t quite believe me, but it seemed that he was currently of the mind that psychotic help was better than no help at all. “Whatever, Harry. Get dressed and meet me in the foyer. I’ll get you onto the boat from there.” I did as he said and I found myself on the boat maybe about a half hour before sunset. Marcone didn’t even acknowledge me when he saw me and that hurt more than I thought it would too.

                Anyway, by the time John and Mab started walking down the aisle, I’d gotten something of a plan together. Murphy had been sent back into the water with Thomas, to tell my father what was going on, and Kincaid was waiting in the rigging with a bunch of other little birds, ready to attack at a moment’s notice and stall the damn wedding for me. Mouse, a part of my plan I hadn’t planned for, growled and grumbled at Mab, and when she kicked him I felt a sort of rage tickling at my belly; that was my dog. No one got to hurt my dog.

                I think the worst part of it was that while they walked I could hear her talking to John, little words I didn’t know the meaning of falling from her lips to keep him in her clutches, but she wasn’t using her voice to do it; no, it was mine, my voice. That right there felt like the greatest invasion of my person ever, to be honest. My voice had always been mine, an integral part of me that no one else could, ever, ever have. And now it wasn’t. Now Mab was using it like it had been hers all along. I felt violated and strange and yeah, that made me a little angry too.

                The wedding started after that, the sun maybe ten minutes from setting, and I was pretty sure the minister was set to the key of drone because his words were slow and dull and made me droop a little where I stood. Mab flashed me a quick, smug smile. I gave her one of my own and gestured for Kincaid and his little army to attack.

                They did, and they did it well; they dive bombed her like fighter planes, sharp beaks ripping and rending her veil and her dress, some of them even going so far as to go the extra mile and spit water and seaweed and fish into her face. She let out her annoyance, her frustration, in a yell and then Mouse joined in the fray. Also, I’m pretty sure that the most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen in any dream has got to be Mouse clamping his teeth down on Mab’s ass. I’m pretty sure that I clapped a little right then. For a moment, though, I still worried that it wouldn’t work, that she’d get all the critters off of her and the wedding would go on as planned, but then one of the little birds cut the cord holding the conch shell around her neck and it shattered and my voice was my own again. I laughed like a madman just because I could and suddenly the spell on Marcone was broken and I was wrapped up tight in his arms.

                “It was you! I was so certain, it was you! You can speak! Harry, I’m so thrilled! Marry me,” he said, and it wasn’t all that romantic and it was really bad timing but I think that was the closest that I’ve ever come to saying ‘yes’ to him about anything. He tried to kiss me, then Mouse nipping at both of our heels, but the sun set and I was struck with that terrible pain again, this time in reverse, as I turned back into one a merman. John gaped at me and I tried a smile, but Mab was an octopus again too and it wasn’t the time to smile because she was dragging me back into the water.

                My dad found us quickly, though, Murphy and Thomas at his side, and he tried to destroy the contract that Mab brandished at him. The sight made me wish that I’d gotten to know him more when he was alive. I’d always known he was a great man; he’d been the one to face the monsters for me when I was a child. I wished that he was still alive to help me face them now, now that I was an adult. I reached out for him but Mab caught me in a whirlpool of golden light that clutched me so tightly that I couldn’t move. That was when she offered my dad the trade, me for him.

                “A king,” she said, “is so much more valuable than a princess, after all.” I tried to tell him not to but he exchanged our names anyway. Mab took his crown and his trident and made him into one of those gray dying things and I felt like crying but I knew that wasn’t allowed just then. I had to fight. I had to face her. She suddenly screamed, though, and I watched blood drip from her arm and saw John swimming not too far away, his lips clenched tightly shut and Hell’s Bells, he’d just _thrown a knife at Queen Mab._ I had to laugh at that because it was so ridiculous and so him that I couldn’t take it. It wasn’t funny for long, though, because Mab sent the Maeve and the Lily eels after him and I watched them attack him, watched Murphy and Thomas try to help not so much because they liked him but because they knew I did, and when Mab took aim for him I went on instinct and grabbed her arms. I managed to pull them just hard enough that she missed Marcone and hit the eels instead and swam off after him to the surface while she wailed. Honestly, I’d have felt guilty over that if this had been anything other than a dream.

                I broke through to the surface and Marcone grabbed me and held me to him even when I told him to leave, but I guess he wouldn’t have had a chance to anyway because Mab was raising up from the depths, a million times bigger than she should’ve been, and a storm of her own creation was whipping the seas into a frenzy, making the clouds spiral and lightning strike and thunder roil.

                She was trying to kill us, I realized with sudden clarity; she wanted us literally dead. That terrified me because Mab had never wanted me dead before and I knew just how deadly she could be. She pulled the water around us into a cyclone and Marcone got pulled under. I tried to grab him but I couldn’t, so instead I just did my best to keep myself above water. I managed it until she had the ocean cleared to the floor and I got stuck on that patch of dry land, desperately flopping around while she shot at me with the trident (looking back on it, this was actually really funny; see, Mab was shooting fish in a barrel, and apparently she was the only person on the planet who was bad at it). Anyway, I was so distracted by this desperate flopping that I didn’t notice John sailing a ghost ship with a broken front towards Mab until he literally fucking impaled her with it. Now, I’ve always known that John was pretty badass, but I’ve got to tell you that I had no idea that he was quite to the level of impale-someone-with-a-ship badass.

                Mab died, then. She died and she shrunk and her crown and her trident fell into the ocean behind her. The storm went silent and the waters stilled immediately after, and I watched John swim from the wreckage of the boat (he really needed to stop breaking those) towards the shore. He collapsed on it as soon as he got there, and I swam over too, settled myself beside him and just watched him breathe, took comfort in the fact that he could still do something so simple. I might have even petted his head a little bit, but to be honest I might’ve been delusional. I had been drinking a lot of seawater recently, after all.   

* * *

 

                As the sun rose on the next morning, I felt myself change into a human again, but this time it didn’t hurt. No, this time it felt warm, it felt easy, it felt natural, and I was even clothed in a nice white sheath dress (I’m so glad that no one I know will ever know that I said that) when it was over. I turned around and saw my father there, his arms wide open, and I threw myself into them. He hugged me back and I told him I loved him and for the first time, I even got to tell him goodbye before I turned and helped John, who’d been slowly waking up all this time, up to his feet.

                He apparently couldn’t contain his joy at seeing me again because he clutched me to him tightly as if he thought I’d disappear and he kissed me like he were drowning and I was made of air. Right then, I kissed him back and I didn’t care that he might’ve been real, I didn’t consider all the things that would mean, the problems simply didn’t matter. I don’t know for how long we stood there like that, but I do know that I felt the dream fading, and as it did, I managed one last thing: I bent down and whispered something in his ear.

                “I’m real.” The last thing I saw before I woke up in my own bed in my own apartment was his totally shocked, vaguely horrified face, and I knew right then that he was most certainly the real John Marcone.

                I pulled myself from my bed and dragged myself into my living room, picked up my phone, and dialed the number he’d given me when we’d met that I hardly knew I’d memorized. He picked up on the second ring.

                “Harry,” he sighed, and for once I didn’t correct him.

                “I think we need to talk,” I told him, and he made an almost desperate sort of noise in the back of his throat. I don’t think I was supposed to hear it, to be honest, but Wizards have way better hearing than most people give us credit for.

                “Come by tomorrow afternoon,” he said, “We may as well make a meal of it.” I’m not sure why that made me laugh, but it did.

                “Yeah. Okay. I’ll come by at about one. We’ll figure this out.” He agreed, but neither of us hung up the phone. I cleared my throat. “Well, um. Yeah. Good night, John.” He breathed out a soft sigh and when he spoke he sounded weirdly happy.

                “Goodnight, Harry.” I hung up the phone and went back to sleep, more tired than I’d ever been after one of those dreams. Strangely enough, though, I found myself almost anticipating, looking forward to, the next day. Maybe everyone was right and I really was going insane.   


End file.
